


Pete Wentz's Ideal Wife (or Grand Declarations about Music and Hats)

by PadawanRyan



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Confusion, Fluff, Grand declarations, Inspired by a Real Life Conversation with My Sister, M/M, Nothing Remotely Sexual, Pete Wentz's Ideal Wife, Peterick, Pining, Though It Wasn't About Pete and Patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PadawanRyan/pseuds/PadawanRyan
Summary: The first couple times he read it, Patrick was able to give himself the benefit of the doubt — it couldn’t possibly be him.The cinch, however, was the hats comment: “Oh, and hats, who doesn’t look cute in hats?”Patrick Stump had spent about a decade pining for his best friend and was mostly okay with it, he was used to it. He never expected to open up an interview to discover that the same best friend, whether consciously or not, wanted to marry him.





	Pete Wentz's Ideal Wife (or Grand Declarations about Music and Hats)

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, my sister sent me this tweet that showed a magazine article from the 1970s where a bunch of famous British men explained what they would want in a wife. We were joking that Ian McKellen's description actually fits Patrick Stewart, and I made some sort of comment like, "can you imagine him reading the article and realizing that it's him?" In that moment, I was thinking that it would make the perfect plot for a fanfic and instantly it came into my head as a Peterick fic. This may be, of course, since that's what I've been reading obsessively lately, but it just seemed like something Pete Wentz would totally do.
> 
> It's short because I'm a busy PhD student who's already procrastinating enough on his comps, but it just _had_ to be written (despite that I've never written Peterick before), so I threw it together in a matter of about an hour. Originally it was going to end before the last text break, but the ending basically wrote itself once I got there.

Patrick always imagined that it would happen with some sort of grand declaration. Not that he really expected it to happen at all, but he always fantasized that it would come with some sort of grand declaration, because that’s the type of person Pete Wentz was: the declaration type.

However, Pete Wentz was also the total accident, “whoops” type, so really, it shouldn’t have surprised him.

* * *

It went down like this: Patrick had been sitting around at home, still getting used to being alone after Elisa left (not that he blamed her), when he heard his phone vibrate across the room. It took a moment for him to convince himself to get off the couch – he wasn’t lazy but it was one of the few days he got to himself before the tour began, so he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer what could very well be a work call – but he figured that if someone was calling him, there was surely a reason why. The last thing he wanted to do was let it go to voicemail _like that one time_.

“What’s up?” he asked, immediately picking up for his other best friend upon seeing the name on the screen.

Joe seemed almost impatient and yet hesitant when he asked, “dude, have you seen it yet?”

His near hesitance caused Patrick to feel almost hesitant. “Have I seen what yet?”

“Oh, dude, Pete did an interview—”

“Fuck,” Patrick muttered before asking, “what did he do this time?”

That was unsurprising. When didn’t Pete say something during an interview that he probably shouldn’t have said? Patrick had been dwelling for years on that “gay above the waist” comment, paired with the insinuation that Pete would fuck _Ryan fucking Ross_ of all people. Yeah, maybe Patrick was jealous, but regardless of Patrick’s personal feelings, Pete probably shouldn’t have said it.

“I think you need to read this one yourself,” his friend responded cryptically.

All he managed to get from Joe before hanging up the phone was the name of the news site where this interview had been published.

* * *

It didn’t even occur to him at first _what_ he was looking at. Or, well, it occurred to him what he was looking at, but not _why_ he was looking at it — why would Joe insist that Patrick absolutely _had_ to see an interview where Pete simply answered what he wants in a wife? Joe knew how Patrick felt about Pete – maybe not the extent of it, but he knew there was something there – and this seemed pretty…well, a little cruel of his friend, to put it lightly.

After reading it about three times to ensure he was reading it _correctly_, it occurred to him what he was looking at _and why_.

When he called Joe back, his friend picked up after only the first ring. “What the—”

“So you read it?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, I…” Patrick wasn’t even sure what to say about it. “It’s…”

“It’s you.”

And sure enough, it was Patrick. The interviewer had asked Pete what he would want in a wife, to describe his perfect woman, and Pete had given a long answer that included things such as “serious but able to joke around,” “isn’t afraid to tell me when I’m being an idiot,” “will still love me even after we’ve argued, and I’m telling you, that will happen _a lot_,” and “plays a musical instrument or five and will write music with me.” The first couple times he read it, Patrick was able to give himself the benefit of the doubt — it couldn’t possibly be him.

The cinch, however, was the hats comment: “Oh, and hats, who doesn’t look cute in hats?”

Pete Wentz’s ideal wife, his perfect woman, was _Patrick_.

“I mean,” he began, still unsure of whether he could believe it, “it might _not_ be me, it might just be a coincidence, like—”

He could actually hear Joe shaking his head. “No, man, it’s definitely you.”

Patrick instantly closed his mouth because he couldn’t think of what else to say. Joe began to ask what Patrick was planning to do next, but Patrick explained to his friend that he had some thinking to do before quickly hanging up the phone — and he did, he certainly had some thinking to do. It was one thing to be in love with your best friend — he had been dealing with that for a long time and had been more than accustomed to it even when Elisa entered (and exited) the picture.

But it was another thing to realize that, consciously or not, your best friend was also in love with you.

* * *

He debated for a while what he was going to do about the situation. The first option, and possibly the easiest option, would simply be to ignore it. He could pretend that he never saw the interview, never read what Pete’s ideal woman is, and go on with life while pretending he was not head-over-heels in love with his best friend of about a decade. Nothing had to change, except that now Patrick knew how Pete felt, even if Pete hadn’t totally realized he was describing Patrick.

The second option would be to confront Pete, to tell him what he read and to ask him what it meant. However, if Pete didn’t realize that his description was basically Patrick – was _definitely_ Patrick – then Patrick risked alienating his best friend and simply make their working relationship – not to mention their friendship – a little awkward.

But there were no other options, were there? He could only do two things: ignore it or address it.

Or, maybe there was a third option. He could start gauging Pete’s feelings by subtly flirting with him, by asking him questions, by seeing what exactly Pete would be responsive to — that would work, wouldn’t it? So long as Pete didn’t realize what he was doing, because fuck, if he alienated Pete because Pete knew he was interested and was not willing to return those feelings, it would be the same risk as option two. He could be subtle though, he was sure that he could be subtle, and maybe that would work.

It’s too bad that Joe didn’t get the memo before he opened his big mouth.

* * *

“So, you want to marry Patrick,” the guitarist stated randomly, out of the blue, while they were practicing the following day.

Patrick froze and could feel the blood rushing from his face. Joe couldn’t possibly be doing this now, could he? And so direct?

Pete’s expression didn’t betray his thoughts, but Patrick _knew_ Pete, so he could see the tension in the bassist’s movements as he responded to his friend, “what are you talking about?”

“I saw that interview you did, about your perfect woman?” Joe explained. “What you want in a wife — what was it you said? Oh yeah, ‘serious but funny’, ‘tells you off’, ‘musical genius’, and ‘wears a fuckton of hats’. Seems pretty Patrick to me.”

This was it, this was the moment that Patrick was going to lose his best friend forever. He could move to Canada if need be — he never wanted to leave Glenview but he would get as far away from Pete as he could without leaving the continent (because he wasn’t feeling up to learning a new language at the moment, though maybe someday he’d be willing to learn Japanese) if need be. He would do absolutely anything to never have to face the awkwardness between them (again, because the hiatus was already awkward enough) or the disgust on his best friend’s face when he realized the extent of Patrick’s feelings.

But the moment didn’t come, because instead, for some reason Patrick would never understand, Pete responded casually with, “well, _yeah_, obviously.”

Patrick still couldn’t speak, he was still frozen, but he could see Andy nod, as if Andy understood, while Joe simply asked, “wait, what?”

“Well,” Pete began, “how else was I supposed to tell him?”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, you know, to his face? Like a _normal person_?”

It didn’t even bother Patrick that they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, because he couldn’t open his mouth anyway. Words were failing him as he tried to process exactly what was happening in the conversation. Pete was aware of his feelings and had done the interview like that _deliberately?_ He was still staring, almost as white as a sheet, when his tanned best friend turned toward him and shot him the most breathtaking smile.

“You know me, I’m the grand declaration type.”

* * *

Despite that Pete’s interview implied that Patrick would make his perfect wife, Pete didn’t ask Patrick to marry him. Of course he didn’t, that would be silly considering _they weren’t even dating_ until then, but Joe and Andy bugged them constantly about when they would tie the knot – when Pete would “make an honest woman” out of Patrick.

Patrick was almost sick of the woman jokes, the wife comments, but he couldn’t help feeling warm and bubbly inside at the same time.

So when Pete decided to take the time during a show, a few years later on yet another tour, to declare that any man would be lucky to have Patrick as his wife, that bubbly feeling overwhelmed the part of him that wondered what the fuck Pete was doing — their relationship wasn’t even public (though that didn’t stop the fans from speculating, as usual). And when Pete actually got down on one knee, on that stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans and asked Patrick if he would be Mrs. Pete Wentz, Patrick could resist the urge to smack him upside the head.

At least this grand declaration was direct enough that Patrick knew exactly how to respond.

“_Yes_, you fucker.”


End file.
